Lily

Lily girl. Silly Lily. Lily Vanilli. My sweet baby girl. So many names for one small dog.
I adopted Lily in November 2010, just a couple of weeks after losing my fifteen year old Buster. I had actually looked at a totally different dog on the shelter's web site, but when my grandson and I went to take a look, the dog was not in his kennel. But Lily was in hers, just a few doors down, and she stood on her hind legs, wiggled her butt and whined until we came to see her.

It was love at first sight. I paid the deposit, and later that evening, I came back and took her home. I remember the hopeful yet somewhat bewildered and scared looks she kept giving me on the drive home. I didn't have a kennel yet for her, but she eventually curled up on the passenger side and settled in to sleep.

Some things I remember about Lily girl:

If you were petting her, and decided to stop, she would reach out delicately with one paw and gently draw your hand back to her.

I often would wake in the middle of the night and find her sleeping right behind my shoulders...solid little comfort.

She loved fighting the invisible hand monster under the blankets.

When I would take her out to my son's place in the country, she would run insanely around the grass, leaping into the air over the retaining wall, mouth wide open, tongue out, for the sheer joy of unrestricted motion.

No matter how I arranged my living room furniture, I had to keep one sofa by the front window. She would lie on the back of the sofa, staring out the window, and erupt into frenzied barking whenever anyone walked by. She especially loathed the gardeners and would bark relentlessly until she chased them away.

After I introduced Annie to the family, Lily was determined to show her that she (Lily), although smaller by 30 pounds, was still the top dog. She would lie on the sofa or the edge of my bed, looking down at Annie, and grumbling in a strangely human way.

She had the softest silkiest fur, and when I would stroke her between her eyes, she would close her eyes in ecstasy.

Sometimes, she would find something in the grass that enchanted her, and she would roll in it, on her back, wiggling back and forth. Several times, she rolled right off the edge of the curb into the street. One time, she rolled in cat poop. I was not pleased.

She always seemed to know when I was eating cereal and would sit right beside me, waiting til I was finished and would put the bowl down for her to lap up the last bits of milk.

How small her sweet head was, compared to the rest of her body.

She loved to go out in the garage and lie next to the garage door, which i would put up about 8 inches. She would stick her nose in the opening, and watch the neighborhood comings and goings.

Even as many times as we had done it, she still resisted letting me put her collar on when it was time for walks. I would have to hold her muzzle in one hand as I slipped the collar over her head with the other. But once it was on, she was more than ready to head out the door.

If I was sad and crying, she would hop on the bed or into my lap, put her paws on my shoulder and lick my face. Probably only wanted the salt, but I like to think she was kissing me.

When I would sit in the recliner or at my desk in the morning with coffee and toast, she would stand on her hind legs, front paws on my thighs, staring at the toast until a crust would magically fall off and into her mouth. She and Annie watched me intently to make sure I shared my crusts equally.

I love my laminate floors, but the click click click of her toenails on the floor...not so much. But oh how I miss that sound now!

She loved to chew on metal...straight pins, safety pins, ornament hangers. She would steal doll clothes, if the grandkids left them unattended, and carry them off to her kennel or under my bed. There, she would chew the snaps off. I would find her with slobbery wet paws from holding the tiny snaps as she chewed.

When we went for walks, she liked to be on Annie's left side. Annie meandered as she walked, and Lily was constantly weaving back and forth behind her, to stay on the left.

She loved her kennel, which was in the kitchen by the counter. She would sleep in there, even if I was in another room. She liked to eat lying down in it, and I would put her food pan just outside. Annie always finished her dinner first, and would come nosing around Lily's dish. Lily would growl and warn Annie off, but once she'd had her fill, she'd crawl out, head for the sofa, and let Annie have the rest.

When I was upstairs in the spare room sewing, she would curl up under the table. As the sewing machine foot pedal would slide backwards on the carpet as I sewed, it would run into her, and I'd reach out my foot to pull it back and find warm soft fur.

The last time she actually slept on the bed beside me, I remember waking up as she settled in right behind my neck, and thinking to myself how comforting it was to have another living presence there.

She was truly a rare and special dog, so affectionate and sweet tempered. I don't know why she chose me to live with, but I'm so glad she did, even if it was only for three short years.
Sleep well, sweet girl. Mommy loves you.